


Seventh

by isitandwonder



Series: Sherlock Advent Calendar [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom John, M/M, Silly Doctor Who References, Smut, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5373680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isitandwonder/pseuds/isitandwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Reciprocation? What do you mean by reciprocation?“ John sounded alarmed.<br/>“You fucked me. Now I'd like to reciprocate.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seventh

“Reciprocation? What do you mean by reciprocation?“ John sounded alarmed.

“You fucked me. Now I'd like to reciprocate.”

“You mean you want to… you want to...”

“Fuck you. Yes, John, is that so hard to believe.”

“Actually, yes.”

“Why? You are a reasonable attractive man, well endowed, so to speak and I am curious to find out how it feels to penetrate your Intestinum rectum.”

“Charming. You sound like you’re about to undertake a prostate examination.”

“Well, in a way, I am. Despite, I thought the clinical term would appeal to you as a medical professional and thus relieve some of the tension.”

“No.”

“No, it does not appeal to you; or no, it doesn't relieve the tension; or no, I'm not allowed to fuck you?”

“I'm not sure. I'll think about it.”

“Of course. Take your time. Do hurry, though, I've got an experiment in the fridge that needs tending to every 45 minutes.”

“Are you always this romantic?”

“How am I supposed to know? You are the first person I'm actually inclined to bed.”

“Sweet Jesus!”

\----------------------------

In the end, there was really nothing for John to decide. If Sherlock wanted to fuck him, Sherlock would fuck him in the end. John could maybe prolong the inevitable a bit, playing hard to get, making things a bit difficult, pretend indifference but the problem of living with a consulting detective who'd perfected the science of deduction was that all this would be very transparent to his flatmate.

So, when Sherlock came back from the kitchen after doing god knows what to some skin samples he'd retrieved (i.e. nicked) from Bart's, John just said: “Ok, let's get it on,” to Sherlock's immense satisfaction, even though he missed the Marvin Gaye reference.

A moment later they were in the bedroom, shedding their clothes and then Sherlock pulled John down onto the bed, kissing him ferociously until they were both panting.

“How… do you… _god, Sherlock_ … how do you… want me?” John gasped breathless between deep thrusts of tongue into his mouth.

“On your hands and knees.” Sherlock was already jostling him in position while speaking, the need urgent in his voice.

John had just enough time to brace himself with his hands against the headboard while Sherlock rummaged through his nightstand for lube before a shockingly cold blob hit his hole, followed by the insistent nudge of Sherlock's cock, pressing in.

“Not one for foreplay, are you?” John hissed between clenched teeth at the rather painful intrusion

“We just have 45 minutes, remember.” Sherlock growled. “Actually, 36 right now.”

“Have you set an alarm or something?” John couldn't believe it. He'd envisaged having sex with Sherlock Holmes to be strange and perhaps a little bit disconcerting – like the whole man – but the current experience topped even his worst imaginings. It felt mechanic and cold and did actually hurt quite a bit and… oh. _Oh!_

“Keep going.” John groaned. “There, right there.” Sherlock pushed in again,until he was buried to the hilt, his cock nicely hitting John's prostate and with that all discomfort was forgotten.

“Can you go slowly, please?” John moaned as Sherlock started to move, pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting in as deep as possible, all the while brushing his glans over this deliciously sensitive spot of nerves inside John.

“31 minutes, John”,,was the answer he got.

“And what does that amount to?”

“Me buggering you senseless for the next half hour.”

“Oh, god!”

And Sherlock was true to his word. He set a teasingly slow pace at first, pushing in long and deep, stroking John's back and pressing open mouthed kisses between his shoulder blades but as he recognised that John was dangerously near the brink of coming he switched to quick shallow thrusts until he merely dipped in while John writhed beneath him. Sherlock had to grip John's twitching hips hard to stop him from rocking himself back against Sherlock, nearly impaling himself as he tried to take his cock in deeper.

“Sherlock, please… please, just fuck me.” John had reached the stage of begging by the time when there were still 11 minutes to go. The muscles in his outstretched arms quivered, the knuckles of his fingers clinging to the headboard standing out white.

“We still have more than ten minutes left.” Sherlock sounded almost detached.

John had enough. With all the willpower he could muster he pushed himself up into a kneeling position. It was very satisfying to hear Sherlock gasp in surprise and indignation as John took his phone - which was sitting on the nightstand, its screen displaying a countdown - and hauled it into the far corner of the room.

“But John...!”

The so addressed just bowed down again: “Can you now just fuck me until I come screaming your name… _please_?”

Sherlock looked down. He was still seated inside John's delectable arse, the strung-out body before him flushed a nice shade of pink from the sweat dark nape of John's neck right down to the small of his back, the muscles in his shoulders working as he pushed his hands back against the headboard.

As Sherlock did not move, too enthralled by the sight in front of him, John took matters into his own hand. He pushed back decidedly while grabbing his neglected cock with one hand, starting to stroke. This somehow broke the spell; Sherlock enthusiastically took up a relentless rhythm, pushing in deep and fast, his balls slapping against John's perineum with every thrust until he felt them suddenly tighten as John's hole clenched spasming around his cock. John truly came screaming Sherlock's name and then it was Sherlock's turn to shiver and gasp as he spurted his come deep inside John's body, before collapsing onto John's back, breathing hard.

“Sherlock?” John groaned.

“Gnh...”

“You are suffocating me.”

“Shh.”

“Sherlock, please, I'm lying in my own rapidly cooling spunk.”

“Phft!”

“Your experiment? 45 minute intervals, remember?”

“Sod it.”

“I love you too.”

That finally did the trick. Sherlock pulled out and slid onto his side, engulfing John from behind, spooning him while throwing one long leg over John's much more sturdier ones. At least John could role onto his side as well, thus escaping the pool of slippery come he'd left on the sheets.

“What was it about, anyway?”

“Maximum stretching capacities of collagen fibrils in facial skin.” Sherlock mumbled sleepily against John's nape before tracing his tongue over the prominent C1 vertebra, tasting salt and musk and John.

“And what unspeakable things were you regularly obliged to do to those fibrils that seemed worth nearly ruining my first time with you?”

“They have to be kept constantly moisturised.”

John couldn't help it; he started to giggle uncontrollably until Sherlock huffed in annoyance: “What's so funny about?”

“You are not even remotely into Doctor Who, are you?”

“Doctor … Who?” Sherlock sounded bewildered.

“Never mind. Silence will fall when the question is asked.”

Sherlock had no idea what John was talking about but shut up and fell asleep nonetheless.

**Author's Note:**

> The Marvin Gaye reference is shamelessly taken from MirithGriffin's genuinely hot story “Heat Wave”, also a fantastic podfic by AfroGeekGodess.


End file.
